Two Days Later – Path to the Eastern Ridge
The journey was rough.
Worse than rough—unnatural.
Wind howled constantly, but the trees didn't bend. Birds didn't fly. The clouds didn't move. Everything felt held in place, as if the world was holding its breath… or being watched.
Luka's squad moved cautiously along a narrow cliff trail that hugged the base of the mountain ridge. The ridge marked the edge of the leyline fracture—now visibly bleeding dark mist that spiraled skyward in threads of violet smoke.
Arthur had been quiet since the basin.
Focused. Controlled.
Too controlled.
Snow, perched on Luka's shoulder, occasionally sniffed at Arthur with suspicion, but no longer growled. That was progress. Maybe.
Gregor grunted, pointing at the sky. "That's new."
Above them, streaks of red light flared—thin like cracks in glass, spreading from the clouds down into the peak of the ridge.
